Chapter 43

We stripped the blankets and sheets off the bed, put on new ones, undressed and climbed in. Peggy was the last to arrive, having stayed out turning off the lights. She crawled up on top of me, burrowed under the bedclothes and laid her head on my chest.

As we lay there all huddled together a thought hit me.

"We have to tell Dad." I said, giving Izzy a one armed hug.

"Tell him what?" she mumbled.

"That he's going to be a grandfather."

She stiffened up briefly and stopped breathing. I hugged her tighter.

"It's going to be alright Izzy. He had to know it could happen. But I don't think he's going to be expecting three granddaughters. And I want Lilly and Peggy to meet him too. We should invite him out here... soon."

Izzy started breathing again. "Okay. I suppose it's best to get it over with quickly."

"Don't worry Izzy," Lilly said from my left shoulder, "I heard that all fathers believe their daughters conceive immaculately anyway."

Izzy chuckled and rubbed her belly against my hip. "Somehow I don't think our father is going to believe that."

"Do you have any family you want to tell Lilly?" I asked.

"No. My parents died not long after I left home. No brothers or sisters either." She sighed. "I wish my folks could have met you guys. They'd have been shocked by our arrangement, but I know they would have liked you."

"Well, I know our Dad is going to love you two. You're very loveable."

All three of them wiggled happily and I felt lips kissing my chest from all sides. I was in heaven.

"Ike?" Lilly whispered.

"Hmmm?"

"Who wrote that poem... the one you recited when..." I could feel her face heating up against my shoulder.

I turned my head and kissed the top of her head. "Shakespeare." I tilted my head forward and kissed Peggy's hair. "John Donne." Turning to my sister I kissed her forehead. "And nobody has the slightest idea."

"How do you remember all that stuff?" Peggy asked.

I shrugged. "How does anyone remember anything? I read things and some of it sticks with me."

"Have you ever written any poetry?" Izzy asked me.

"Yeah, quite a few back when I was a lonely, horny, angry teenager. And compared with the stuff I've read over the years I have to admit that some of them were actually quite awful. The rest were much worse."

"Recite one for us... please?" Lilly asked eagerly, digging her fingers into my upper arm.

"You just want to mock my youthful attempts at literary greatness."

Peggy inched up and kissed my neck. "Of course."

"Come on Ike, just one?" Izzy urged.

I sighed loudly. "Fine... but don't say you weren't warned."

I put my head back against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling blindly for several moments, trying to remember. "Okay, this should brighten your dreams:

When my sight grows misty, my hearing dim

My nose goes dull, tongue tastes of tin

My face grows slack, lips turn black

Mouth grins inane and drools insane

My hair falls away, hands start to shake

Joints go stiff, my heart starts to quake...

It's too late, too late, too late

With the grave opening wide at the gate.

Time to move from bed to slab

From slab to shroud, shroud to box

From box to grave --

And the grave breaths a kiss

As the gates slam in my face

And as for the world behind those gates

Who in this grave will give a shit!?"

They were very quiet when I finished, and I grinned happily to myself. They wouldn't be clamoring for another poetry recital night anytime soon.

Peggy slapped one little hand against my chest. "How old were you when you wrote that?"

"Fourteen or fifteen I think."

"Damn... sounds almost like a suicide note." she muttered.

"Yeah, it does." Lilly replied.

Izzy just held my arm and I felt her tears falling on my shoulder. I gave her a one armed hug and ran my hand over her arm and shoulder.

"Hey, it was a long time ago, and I was just a kid. I'm feeling much better now. So cheer up, sleep tight and dream of shopping and beauty parlors. You three lovely ladies are going to make every man between puberty and a hundred hate my guts and wish he was me. And that will make me even happier than I am right now, which is saying something."

We all shifted around for a bit, getting comfortable and then laying quietly.

"It really isn't a very good poem." Peggy's chin dug into my chest as she whispered to me a few minutes later.

"I know." I whispered back. "But I bet you'd have liked it a lot more if we'd been having sex while I was reciting it."

"You could recite the phone book then and I'd like it." she giggled.

"Hmmm... have to try that some time."

I lay there for about half an hour, listening as their breathing became softer and synchronizing with one another. And then I drifted off as well.

We were all up and dressed by seven, drinking tea and juice and nibbling on sweet rolls when the helicopter arrived at eight on the dot. David and Anya looked a bit tired and worn out, but that was only to be expected. They were newlyweds, after all. The limo was waiting for us in front of the main building and we had a nice quiet ride into D.C.

There was a slight bit of difficulty at the bank; they weren't too keen on the idea of putting three additional names on my account. But a little arm twisting on Lilly's part and my forged Marshall's badge convinced them to do what I wanted. We had new checks put on order, I cashed a check for five thousand dollars, and we were out the door and on our way to our first shopping mall in Maryland by ten.

It's common knowledge that men don't like to go shopping. Personally, I hate shopping for several reasons. I don't like crowds, I don't like having to deal with the sales people and pretty much everything I like always costs more than I think it should. Most of the men I know bitch about having to go shopping with their wives or girlfriends... they get bored and frustrated.

I had a wonderful time. I sat in the dressing room area and my girls put on a fashion show for me. They were having a good time trying on different things, from dresses to some rather skimpy underwear, and I had a terrific time watching them. Once they all had picked out what they wanted the four girls took David and I to a menswear place and got us suits that would compliment their chosen outfits. While our clothing was being tailored the girls hit the beauty parlor, so Mr. Jones and I were left to fend for ourselves for a couple of hours.

He left me browsing in a book store and went off to check in with Dr. Wills. When he returned there was a deeply puzzled expression on his face.

"Dr. Wills gave me a couple of messages for you."

"Oh?"

"Colonel DeBerg called. The Army is finally ready to put you out of the service. You've been scheduled to outprocess on Wednesday. The Colonel wants you back in the hospital by Monday."

"It's about time. The girls aren't going to be too happy, but it's only for a few days. What's the other message?"

"The FBI has been making a lot of noise, and your name keeps coming up."

"Well, they have to do a deep background check to clear me for the job, right?"

"Dr. Wills says this is different. None of his usual contacts at the Bureau can, or will, tell him what's going on."

"We never did find out if the FBI was directly involved with the Senator and Congressman's little scheme, did we?"

"No, we never did. And get this... the National Security Advisor has taken an interest in you as well."

"That can't be good." I mused. "But as long at they're just making noise there shouldn't be any trouble."

"You're an optimist. It'd bug the hell out of me, knowing folks like that were tossing my name around."

"Not much I can do about it. So why worry?"

"Just don't go getting too over confident. You aren't invulnerable."

"No, I'm not." I sighed softly. "Is it too much to ask, just to be left alone?"

"Ike, you've stepped into a world of sneaky, slick, back-stabbing, double talking, power hungry people who'd sell their own mothers for a taste of the kind of power you have. Trust me, I've been around this place for quite a few years and I've seen what's what. Once they realize what you're capable of they're going to try to put you under their thumbs, and failing that they'll try to manipulate you... and when that doesn't work they'll try to destroy you. In my opinion, your best move would be to run as far away as humanly possible. If you won't do that, then grow eyes in the back of your head and become more like them than they are. It's the only way to survive."

"I can't run. I gave Dr. Wills my word. So I suppose I have no choice but to work on the second set of eyes."

"It's a shame... you're a decent guy. I hate to think of what this town is going to do to you in ten years time."

"I get enough of that fluffy bunny crap from the girls, don't you start doing it too. You've seen me work. I'm only a decent guy according to my own rules. According to society I'm a homicidal nut case."

"Then fuck society's rules and stick to your own. Make them play your game, don't play theirs." he growled softly.

"That is exactly what the rat bastard part of me has been saying for weeks."

"Listen to that part then. It knows what it's talking about."

We headed back to the beauty parlor and found the girls waiting for us.

They looked... uhhmmm, different. I don't pretend to understand how women chose their hair styles. I know they're trying to project an image to the world, but I'll be damned if I know what that image is supposed to be.

Peggy's spiked hair had been cut down so that it was only about two inches long and fluffed up so that it reminded me of rabbit fur. Lilly's long silky hair was cut just above her shoulders and shaped into tightly curled ringlets, and Izzy's long locks had been turned into something that resembled a 1920's flapper style helmet.

I put on my dazed and stupid expression, which seemed to do the trick. They took it for awe and wonder and I was saved.

"See, I told you he'd like it." Izzy told the other two girls, who didn't seem as convinced as my big sister.

Mr. Jones was having an easier time with Anya, whose sandy blond hair had been feathered back and reminded me of some actress from the 70's I'd seen on a poster.

Smiling as warmly as I knew how I gave each girl a hug and kiss.

"You all look exotic, erotic and lovely." I told them and we went for a light lunch and talked about where we should go for dinner. I made reservations over the phone, we picked up our suits then we went looking for a portrait studio and had our picture taken. Mr. Jones and Anya had theirs taken as well and he told the studio to send all the pictures to our offices at the CIA.

We spent the rest of the afternoon sightseeing. Later in the day the girls got dressed in the limo while Mr. Jones and I waited outside, which was a long and uninteresting hour and a half. But when they emerged, the results were stunning.

Anya's dress was a gleaming grey; slinky, clingy and nearly ankle length, split almost to the hip, shoulder baring on the left with one angled halter strap on the right, elegant and very sexy.

Mr. Jones whistled long and low as his eyes ran up and down her body. They both blushed slightly.

Izzy followed Anya out of the car, her dress was a shimmering black, also tight, especially across her hips, but no less clingy. The hem swirled around her ankles, the upper part of the dress had long tight sleeves that joined the halter top where they met at the neck and shoulders, leaving her ribs, underarms and back exposed. My mouth started to water.

Lilly stepped out next. Her dress was also black and ankle length, but even more clingy and form fitting... and strapless. Just below the bustline the side material was shear, decorated with silver embroidered roses, but the panels, which ran all the way down to the hem, clearly showed that Lilly was naked beneath the dress. I had no idea my sweet, shy little mother-to-be had such an exhibitionistic streak. I think I started to drool just a bit.

Peggy came out last. Her dress was something altogether different. Filmy black scarves seemed to be what it was made of, tied around her neck halter style. Tight at the waist, it emphasized her breasts, and flared out over her hips, the hem finishing just about mid thigh, with ragged scarf-like bits hanging down. On such a short girl it made her legs appear much longer than they actually were. The spiked heels she wore also added to the illusion of height. At that point I knew I was drooling like an idiot.

"Wow!"

Mr. Jones and I fawned and fussed for several minutes, going on and on about how attractive and sexy our women looked. Then it was our turn to use the limo as a dressing room. It's a damn good thing the limo was as spacious as it was or I'd never have been able to get changed. As it was I still had to get out so I could tuck my shirt tails into my pants.

Eventually, about ten minutes, it was the girls' turn to fuss. Anya paid special attention to Mr. Jones' tie and collar, while my girls spent an inordinate amount of time adjusting my belt and the line of my fly. I was just about ready to call the whole evening off and head straight for the nearest motel.

We had dinner in a very upscale restaurant, complete with a wine steward and a staff of waiters who specialized in individual courses. By the main course we were all nicely buzzed and my girls were taking turns dropping their spoons under the table so they could dive under the table cloth and grope me... sometimes even more than just a quick fondle. And I can't say for sure, but I got the distinct impression that more than simple hand holding was going on under the table between David and Anya.

We were all in excellent spirits as we left the restaurant, walking thru the underground parking garage towards the limo, discussing where we should go next. As we approached the limo I got a sharp elbow in the ribs from Izzy. Looking up I could see three men arrayed in front of us, all in overcoats and all looking very serious and self assured.

I pushed my girls behind me and slowly unbuttoned my double breasted suit jacket with my left hand. I could see from the corner of my eye that Mr. Jones and Anya were facing off opposite one of the three men before us.

I quickly linked with the three men and began sending them rapid pulses of fear.

Their veneer of self assurance quickly faded away.

"You gentlemen are blocking our limousine." Mr. Jones rasped at the three.

One man, the one in the center, stepped forward. His right hand moved as if to reach under his overcoat.

"If that hand comes out holding a weapon, all three of you are dead." I snarled at him.

His face went white and I could feel their own fear growing, in addition to what I was sending. His shaky hand came back out and held up a wallet which he opened with a practiced flip, exposing a shiny badge and photo ID card. Mr. Jones stepped forward and examined the proffered ID.

"FBI." he announced, stepping back towards Anya and I.

"The three of you are FBI agents?" I asked no one in particular.

"Yes, we are." The one in the middle with the raised arm and the ID replied, while the other two nodded. I could feel they were telling the truth.

"How do we know that isn't fake ID?" I asked, just to be an asshole.

"What do you mean?" the man in the center asked me, his expression puzzled.

"I've recently had some experience with men claiming to be FBI agents who weren't. They had nice shiny badges too. How do I know yours are real? Prove to me you are who and what you say you are."

The three of them cast looks of bewilderment back and forth, clearly stumped. Obviously a demand like mine had never come up before.

The man in the center tried to reestablish some kind of control over the peculiar situatition he suddenly found himself in.

"Are you Sergeant Ike Blacktower?"

"Who wants to know?" I shot back.

"The Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He wants to see you, now. You're to come with us." The man was feeling more comfortable now, safely back in the ritual enhanced arms of his chosen occupation.

"No... I don't think I will. Now get the hell away from our car." I increased the amount of fear and panic. "If the Director of the FBI wants to talk to me he can make an appointment for sometime during daylight hours. Unless of course you gentlemen are trying to arrest me, in which case I want to see the warrant. No? Then get the hell out of our way... and have a nice evening."

I started moving forward, slowly and deliberately, increasing the fear and panic I was sending them with each step. Mr. Jones and Anya moved forward with me and soon we were within arms reach.

The men bravely held their ground, so I amped up the levels and blasted them. They walked away with as much dignity as they could muster, but I could feel their hearts pounding like race horses after running the Derby.

"Well," I said to Mr. Jones as we watched the three men hurry off, "that didn't take long."